With My Last Breath
by fms-fangirl
Summary: John is aching to comfort a horribly abused Evan, but will have to teach him to trust him, while Randy plans revenge on the abuser. Warning: Contains m/m slash, violence, implied non-con, punishment, humiliation, kink and one possibly huge squick.
1. Chapter 1

"I should have watched out for him better. I should have realised what was going on."

"Randy, you mustn't blame yourself. No one knew how bad it was."

It was true, John thought. No one had realised what was really going on as Evan's relentlessly cheerful façade had slipped a little more each day, as he withdrew further into the shadows until he was a ghost of his former self. The fans never knew, but backstage, the company had watched in concern as he pasted his signature smile on his face and squared his shoulders before running out to the ring flashing his trademark peace sign. Somewhere, he'd lost the joy that had been so much of his personality and the sunny good nature that had endeared him to so many of them.

Randy did blame himself. He'd had his own worries: an injury earlier in the year and his own complicated private life, but that didn't excuse his blindness. How could he have not realised that all of those little injuries: a black eye, two broken fingers and a badly bruised hip were not all caused by bad bumps or blown spots? There had been rumours, of course, that Evan was involved in a stormy relationship, but he had never been linked with anyone and, on the one occasion when Randy had tried to question him, he had refused to talk about it.

He would never forget the horror of the moment when he had found him, bruised and bleeding, trying to dress even as his whole frame was wracked by tremors. Ted had called him from the arena; the road agents were looking for him. Since everyone knew that Evan was pathologically punctual, there was some cause for concern. Randy, whose relationship with the clock was somewhat more casual, had not left for the arena yet, and had agreed to find him. He'd badgered housekeeping until the maid had let him into his room. The sight of Evan, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and down his legs, bruises on his neck and torso and a cigarette burn in the palm of his hand, had filled him with a rage so powerful that he could barely breath.

He had called the road agent and, in voice that brooked no argument, had told him that Evan had the flu and wouldn't be there that night. Then, as gently as possible, he had helped him into a pair of track pants and a t-shirt.

"I'll take you to the ER after the show," he'd said, but Evan had shaken his head frantically. "All right then," he'd said, "but you have to promise me that you'll see your own doctor." As Evan nodded mutely, he'd asked, "Who did this to you?" but he had remained stubbornly silent.

In the weeks afterwards, Evan still refused to discuss what had happened or to say who it had been. Randy had pleaded, begged and threatened; he had tried all his wiles, and, failing that, had shouted and sworn at him; all to no avail; Evan had retreated into a shell-shocked silence. When word got out that Evan would require surgery for a torn rotator cuff and several months off the company assumed that this was the cause of his depression and speculation had ceased.

If Randy blamed himself that was nothing compared to the guilt that John felt. When had his heart begun to turn over at the sight of that wide smile? When had a pair of trusting brown eyes begun to haunt his dreams? He couldn't say, but, when he had swept Evan into his arms after their main event on Raw, he had known. Randy had known, too, and had encouraged him, but he had waited, worrying that the time was not right. Maybe, if he had spoken, it wouldn't have happened. Maybe, if Evan had known how he felt, he would have come to him for protection. Who could say? But the fact remained that somebody had abused him horribly, and, in doing so, had crushed his spirit. And John and Randy, both of whom loved him, each in his own way, felt helpless in the face of his despair and pain.

"You have to speak," Randy said. "He'll be gone soon."

They were sitting in Randy's tour bus after their Friday night house-show. John took several swallows of his beer, "Maybe I should wait until he comes back."

Randy slammed his can down, "Dammit, John! It'll be too late by then. It's almost too late now. He's slipping away."

Both men sighed. It was an ugly truth in their business: the punishing schedule and endless travel took its toll, not just on their bodies, but their souls. Some were lucky enough to have stable marriages and family lives, but many sought distraction in random sex, booze or drugs. And then there were those who were simply consumed by the emptiness within. John knew Randy fought his demons daily, his only anchors his love for his wife and daughter and a genuine love of the business, hiding behind a mask of cynicism and aloofness. His friendship with Evan had surprised everyone, but from their first match, he had treated him with a gentle affection and unfailing kindness. People supposed it had something to do with the fact that they shared a native city, but John knew that the younger man's enthusiasm and love of wrestling had roused some protective instinct in Randy, who had been quietly exerting pressure behind the scenes to move him up the card.

"What should I do? How do you think I should approach him? He keeps to himself so much these days, disappearing as soon as his match is over."

"I said I'd work out with him tomorrow morning. Be at the hotel gym at seven. I'll show up late."

"All right, but he's so fragile right now. It wouldn't take much to scare him off."

"John," Randy smiled at him, his normally icy eyes softening, "just be yourself."

John smiled to himself as Evan walked into the hotel gym at seven on the dot. "Hi," he said. "I'm glad you're here. Would you mind spotting me?"

He shrugged, "Sure. I was supposed to meet Randy."

"I guess he's catching up on his beauty sleep." He grinned at the other man. "You know how he needs it."

Evan smiled reluctantly and took his place at John's head. As Randy showed no sign of appearing he went through his own workout, asking John to return the favour. Both were cooling down, swigging back water in companionable silence when Randy strolled in.

"Well, here's the Sleeping Beauty now!" John mocked. "Good thing I was here; poor Evan would have been stuck all alone. C'mon Evan, I'll buy you breakfast. That'll teach him to sleep in." Ducking as Randy threw a towel at him, and, silencing his objections, he bore Evan off to the hotel coffee shop.

"You don't have to buy me breakfast," he protested. "I was going to grab something later."

"Why don't I believe you?" John asked, signalling the waitress for coffee. "I haven't seen you eating breakfast for weeks. You're skipping meals, aren't you?" he asked gently.

Evan didn't answer him, but swallowed his coffee in several gulps, refusing to meet his eyes.

John felt his heart twist. There had to be some way to get past the walls that Evan had put up against the world. "I know when you're injured that it's tempting to give up. You start wondering if you'll ever be able to come back and you start wondering if it's worth it to try. Don't start thinking that way."

"I know," he smiled shakily at John, "but I'll be gone for at least four months. I'm not like you or Randy or – or Adam; people won't be waiting to see me come back. They'll forget about me; I'll have to start all over again."

"Don't say that. People won't forget; you have plenty of fans who'll be waiting for you. Randy won't forget about you." He reached across the table and squeezed Evan's forearm, "I'll be waiting for you." He was pleased to see that although Evan tensed, he did not pull away.

"Thanks John. I appreciate that. I'll never forget what you tried to do for me earlier this year. You and Randy, both."

"I was glad to do it. I just wish you hadn't gotten lost in all of this Nexus business."

"Yeah, me too," he sighed. He pulled out his wallet and dropped a twenty on the table. "I'll see you later," he said and left the restaurant.

John pushed the remains of his breakfast around his plate as he finished his coffee. He was not particularly surprised to see Randy drop into the seat Evan had just vacated.

"Well?" he asked.

"Well what?"

"How did it go?"

"We talked."

"And?"

"And nothing. What do you expect?"

"Jesus John!" Randy rolled his eyes, "Either you make a move or I will."

John stared at Randy, "You wouldn't, would you?"

"Yes I would. He's falling fast; somebody had better catch him soon. Damn it John, he needs you, but if you're too chickenshit to do anything about it, I will." Looking at John's stricken expression, he added, "And I think you need him, too."

It was true: John found the Nexus story line was tearing him up; most nights he left the arena depressed and discouraged. He supposed it made for compelling viewing, but being on the end of countless beat-downs was taking its toll and it was getting harder every day to muster the enthusiasm that he knew the fans deserved.

He swallowed hard. "You're right, I do."

"Then tell him."

It was all very well for Randy to say. "Tell him," John thought, pacing restlessly around his dressing room, he wasn't the one doing the telling. But he knew Randy was right. Evan was drifting away; their breakfast that morning had confirmed it and soon he would be gone for surgery. He had two or three weeks at the most.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a tap on the door and Randy slipped in.

"Don't say I never do anything for you," he smirked. "He's going to need a ride back to the hotel tonight."

"I thought he drove over with Santino."

"He did, but Santino's already been on and I made it worth his while to leave immediately. Evan's out there right now. In about twenty minutes he's going to be changed and looking for him," Randy explained patiently. "I suggest that you run into him."

John wasn't sure how much he liked Randy's scheming, but it was better than anything he'd been able to come up with. As soon as Evan's match ended, he stationed himself at the catering table and waited. Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later, he saw Evan wandering around the arena backstage, carrying his bag.

"Hey Evan," he said, beckoning him over, "did you lose something?'

"Yeah," he sighed. "My ride. It looks like Santino already took off."

"No problem. You can hitch a ride with me if you don't mind waiting until the end of the show."

"Really? Thanks. I'll wait for you by the door later."

"Why don't you drop your stuff in my dressing room? You can hang around there, if you like. It's a bit more peaceful than out here," he said, gesturing at the chaotic backstage.

"Thanks, but I'll be okay."

Who had done this to him, John wondered. Who had crushed his spirit to such an extent that he tried to fade away? How could he help him, he thought wretchedly.

"Evan!" he rolled his eyes, "you won't be in my way. I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't want you there. God, you're proud and stubborn!"

Evan flushed uncomfortably. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Thank you."

"Good," he said leading him into his dressing room. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll see you in a little while."

He headed backstage and sought out Randy. "Okay, he's riding back with me." He caught Randy's arm. "Do you have any idea who did this to him? Because, whoever it is, I'd like to strangle them."

Randy's mouth quirked up at the corner. "That's right. I'd forgotten about that little fetish of yours."

"Dammit, I'm not trying to be funny! He's almost entirely broken."

"I know," Randy sighed, "but for the love of God, don't let on that you know what happened to him! He thinks I'm the only one who knows. And," he added, his eyes narrowing, "I have a suspicion who it was."

"Who?"

"I'm not saying anything until I feel more sure, but I guarantee you that you won't have to strangle him because I'm going to beat him to a bloody pulp`."

John felt himself grow cold at Randy's words. He knew Randy didn't make idle threats. "For God's sake, don't do anything rash!"

His face darkened and his voice became dangerously quiet, "He'll pay. For every bruise, every broken bone, and every scar; he'll pay. I swear."

"Do you mind if we stop for a bite?" John asked, as he pulled out of the arena parking lot. "I haven't eaten yet. And," he said glaring at Evan, "I'll bet you haven't either."

Evan smiled sheepishly at him. "I wasn't very hungry earlier."

"Well, I'm starving now," he said. "There's a good spot near here with a wood-burning pizza oven."

"Sounds good."

Soon they were seated in a booth in a corner of the restaurant arguing in a friendly manner about toppings for their pizza.

"Randy's always yapping on about St Louis-style pizza. What's so great about it?"

"We've got a show in St Louis in two weeks. I'll buy you one; you can see for yourself."

"I'm holding you to that," John replied, delighted to see Evan relaxed and smiling more than he had been for weeks.

"Have you seen the booking sheets for the next couple of weeks?" John asked. He and Randy, as main-eventers, usually had a pretty good idea what was in store for them, but the mid-card often weren't made aware for several more days.

"Not really. They told me they were teaming me up with Mark for some tag-team thing at the pay-per-view, but that's all I really know at the moment. It's pointless for them to book me in anything long-term."

"At least you'll be on the pay-per-view."

"Don't get me wrong; I like Mark, and, like you said, at least I'll be on the show, but teaming me up with Mark makes me feel like I'm part of some sight gag." He fell silent for a moment as he ate his pizza, but, suddenly, put his slice down, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course. Anything."

"How do you _really_ feel about getting beat on by the Nexus every week? I mean, you're a champion. Doesn't it make you feel like they're diminishing your status, turning you into their whipping boy?" He dropped his gaze, "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that."

"Don't apologise. And you're right; that's exactly how I feel. I know I can't expect to come out on top all the time, but they've spent years promoting me as poster boy of WWE and now… I don't know."

"For what it's worth, I hate the way they're treating you these days, but I'm sure you'll be back on top soon. You're too popular and too good."

John swallowed convulsively. "Thanks," he said, reaching out to squeeze his arm, overjoyed when Evan placed his own hand on top of his for a second. "But I do have some news that should make you happy."

"What?"

"The main event at the St Louis show is going to be Big Show, Randy, me and you against the Nexus."

Evan's face lit up, "That's wonderful. I loved working with you earlier this year and I love working with Randy."

"Well, you and Randy certainly stole the show when he gave you that RKO in the middle of your Shooting Star Press. Poor Randy, he spent all day worrying that he might injure you." John smiled at the memory of Randy fussing and pacing around his dressing room before the match.

"It took some convincing," Evan said, "but I trusted him. I knew he could do it."

"Anyway, I'm looking forward to working with you again and after the show you can buy me that pizza."

"Absolutely," Evan replied, smiling wider than he had in weeks.

John had barely let himself into his room when his phone rang. "Yes Randy?"

"How did it go?"

"We ate pizza and we talked."

"What else?"

"Jesus Randy!" he exclaimed. "What else could there be? I told him about the St Louis main event. He's really excited and says he's going to buy me a pizza after the show."

"That sounds promising," Randy approved, "but that's two weeks away. Good thing you're having dinner with him and me tomorrow."

"I am?"

"Yes, you are. Our Sunday show is a matinee this week. I've already arranged to meet him for dinner afterwards. You're joining us."

"Don't you think he's going to start wondering why I'm suddenly around all the time?" John asked. "After all, he's not stupid."

"Even better if he starts to wonder. I guarantee you he is not indifferent to you."

"How do you know? Did he say something?"

"Yes John; we had a sleepover and spent all night talking about secret crushes. No, he hasn't said anything, but I've known him a long time. He says a little more to me than he might to anyone else. Now, for God's sake, get moving. You've only got a few weeks."

John wandered into the hotel restaurant the following evening to find Randy and Evan seated at one of the tables.

Randy beckoned him over, "You don't mind if John joins us, do you?"

"Of course not," Evan replied, smiling easily at him.

"Good, or else he'd have to eat alone," Randy remarked. "You know no one else will eat with him. They all get grossed-out because he chews with his mouth open."

"I do not!" John exclaimed. "Don't listen to him Evan! Was I chewing with my mouth open last night?"

Evan pretended to think about it for a minute, "Well, not exactly…"

Anything John might have said was cut off as Randy's phone rang. Randy spoke into it for a minute and pressed the end button, swearing, "Crap! I forgot I have a radio interview in twenty minutes. You can have my dinner, John. Good thing I ordered your favourite." He got up and left the restaurant, grinning at John.

"Why do I have a feeling that I should be very afraid of what this waitress is bringing over?" he asked, as a young woman approached their table carrying two plates.

Evan began to sputter with laughter, telling the waitress that the other gentleman had to leave suddenly, but his friend would be happy to have his dinner, his laughter becoming uncontrollable as John stared at the plate in dismay.

"Liver," he said in disgust. "He ordered liver." Randy, I am so going to get you for this, John thought.

Evan recovered enough to choke out, "Order something else, John. Randy already told them to put it on his tab." Randy's bus had developed a mysterious fluid leak the day before and was currently in the shop, forcing him to stay in the hotel.

"Just for that, I will," John replied, ordering the largest steak on the menu with every side they offered.

"I remember once, when I was about nineteen, Randy had come to see me in a show back home. We went to this barbecue place after and he ordered for me while I was in the men's room," Evan laughed.

"I can just imagine what you ended out with."

"A plate of snoots."

"Are they what I think they are?" John asked.

"Yep. Barbecued pigs' nostrils," Evan replied. "Actually, they're really good if you can get past the idea that you're eating a nose."

"I think I'll pass," John said, attacking his steak. "I guess you had some pretty weird stuff when you were in Japan."

"Did I ever!" Evan exclaimed and went on to tell John several stories about his time in Japan.

John was overjoyed to see Evan relaxing and opening up to him. And something else: he remembered Evan's hand resting on his for a second the night before. Randy was right; he wasn't indifferent. Something in his expression and the tone of his voice told him. But was it too soon to make a move?

"It's still early," John said as the waitress cleared their table. "I have a six-pack in my room. I was planning to chill and order a movie. You're welcome to join me, unless you have other plans."

Evan hesitated until John added, "Seriously, I'd be glad of the company. It's weird, but the higher you get on the roster, the more people leave you alone."

"I guess I never thought about it like that," Evan said. "I mean, I hang out with Randy fairly often, but that's because we've known each other for years. Same for Cody and Ted; he's known them forever, but I don't see him with too many of the others."

"I know most of the guys wish they had problems like that," John said as they made their way to the elevator, "but being at the top of the card cuts you off from the others."

"You mean it's lonely at the top," Evan grinned.

"Something like that," he said, opening the door to his room. "Seriously, ask Mark or Hunter when the last time anyone invited them along on something was."

Evan began to laugh, "I'm sorry. I just had this vision of picking up the phone and calling the Undertaker, 'Hi Mark. Santino and I and some of the other guys are going bowling. Then we're going out for milkshakes. Do you want to come?'"

"Okay, I see your point," John said, handing him a beer. He favoured him with a warm smile, curiously touched as Evan turned bright pink.

They settled on a movie, but, after about half an hour, John turned it off. "This is crap," he said, opening another beer. "Want one?" he asked.

"No thanks. I should probably be going," he said, standing up.

"Sit down. I didn't turn it off because I want you to go. Really." As Evan sat, he reached out and took his wrist. "I'm glad you're here."

Suddenly, he noticed the scar in the palm of his hand and caught his breath. Randy hadn't told him about that.

Evan jerked his arm away, curling his hand into a fist. "I-I had an accident a while back," he stammered, but the compassion in John's gaze told him all he needed to know.

"You know, don't you?" he said accusingly. "Randy told you."

"Evan, I-"

"Is that why I can't turn around without bumping into you?" he said, his voice rising. "What kind of game are you and Randy playing?"

"It's not a game," John said desperately.

"Then what would you call it?"

"Love."

"Bullshit!" Evan shouted. "The last person who said they loved me used my hand as an ashtray. You're no better than he is: plotting and scheming with Randy to get me alone. Did you think I'd be a pushover? Did you think that I'd be so grateful that you weren't breaking my fingers, I'd let you do anything?" He started towards the door.

"It wasn't like that," John shouted back, grabbing Evan's arm.

Suddenly, Evan froze and lifted his free arm to shield his face. Horrified, John let go and watched, his heart breaking, as Evan took two or three stumbling steps backwards, his face deathly white, his breathing ragged and shallow. "You want to know something funny?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "You didn't have to do all this. You only had to ask. I would have said yes to anything you wanted." Slow tears made their way down his face. "But I don't want your pity," he said, his voice flat and emotionless as he turned away and left the room.

Randy was woken from a deep sleep by a loud hammering on his door. Stumbling in the dark, he opened it to receive a resounding punch to the jaw. Reeling backwards, he fell to the ground, to see a small figure looming over him.

"You told!" he shouted.

"Evan, what the fuck? What's this all about?"

"You swore you wouldn't tell anyone, but you told John!"

"Evan, are you drunk?" he asked peering up at the slightly swaying figure.

"So what if I am?"

Randy stood. "Come inside and we'll talk about this," he said, wiggling his jaw carefully.

"I have nothing to say to you," he hissed. "I don't know what you're trying to prove, offering me up to John on a silver platter, but I don't want to speak to you ever again. And the same goes for your buddy, John."

He watched Evan make his way unsteadily down the hall as several doors opened. Just as he was about to go back into his own room, he heard a low chuckle and a silky voice saying, "Well, what do you know? The little squirt does know how to fight back"

Casting a look of loathing at the figure framed in the doorway, Randy retreated back into his room, slamming the door.

Switching on the light, Randy grabbed his phone and punched in John's number. "What the hell did you say to him?" he shouted as soon as John answered.

"I couldn't help it, Randy," he replied desperately, "I saw his hand… that scar. He could tell I knew."

"Well, he just showed up at my door and gave me an almighty sock in the jaw. Knocked me flat on my back."

"Did he really?" John couldn't help the slight chuckle that escaped him.

"It's not funny. I've never seen him so angry. You've blown it."

"Now just a minute!" John shouted down the phone. "I went along with all of your schemes and ideas and now he hates me. You were right; he was interested, but now I don't think he'll ever want to speak to me again." He sighed, "He's never going to trust either of us again and that's the worst part. After what he's been through and now this; I'm scared that we've broken him."

Randy flopped onto his bed. "I know," he said, glumly. "I'll try to talk to him tomorrow."

"Don't bother. I think you've done enough. If I can possibly make him listen to me, I'm going to try to speak to him. I'm going to be honest with him and I'm going to tell him."

"Tell him what?"

"That I love him."

"Tell him," Randy said. There was a note in his voice that only a few people: his wife, his daughter and the one or two people closest to him ever heard. "Tell him; he deserves the best and that's you."

The following Friday John prowled around the arena backstage. He had not been able to pin Evan down last Monday during the Raw broadcast. Whenever he spotted him backstage there were too many people around and, whenever John got close to him, he vanished, disappearing as soon as the show was over. By means of studiously casual inquiry, he'd learned that Evan was not registered in the same hotel as the rest of the company nor did he have a reservation, but no one had any idea where he was staying.

As soon as Randy arrived, he pulled him into his dressing room. "Do you have any idea where he might be? You don't think he's not going to show up, do you?"

"There's no danger of that," Randy answered. "He'd never skip a show. Traffic's bad; I'm sure he'll be here soon."

"But why isn't he staying in the same hotel as the rest of us?"

Randy smiled reluctantly, "Because he's one of the most remarkably stubborn people I've ever met. He doesn't want to see or speak to you or me, so he's going to take every measure possible to avoid us."

"Well, I can hardly hang around the corridor and pounce on him when he arrives."

"Maybe not," Randy said, "but I can. He'll have to speak to me; I have something he can't refuse." He pulled a sheet of paper out of his bag and showed it to him.

John shook his head, "That's really low."

"It's for a good cause."

Randy bided his time until Evan's match was over, opening his dressing room door just as the younger man was walking by. He grasped him by the arm and pulled him into the small room, closing the door quickly.

"You can leave in one minute. I just wanted to give you this." He handed the paper to him.

Evan looked at the brightly coloured crayon scribbles and smiled in spite of himself.

"I told Alanna you were hurt and she wanted to make you a picture."

"That was very sweet of her," he said stiffly. "Tell her I said thank you."

"You can tell her yourself. I was just about to call her to say good night," he said, picking up his phone.

Listening to Randy talk nonsense into the phone, Evan marvelled at that side of his character so few people saw and, against his will, felt his anger melting. He took the proffered phone from Randy and gravely thanked the gurgling little girl.

"Sam wants you to come for lunch on the Saturday we're back home. She's invited John as well."

"I suppose it might be rather awkward if I'm not speaking to either of you," Evan commented.

"It might." Randy took a deep breath, "Will you at least hear John out?"

"How could you have told John?" Evan cried. "I begged you not to tell anyone."

"Because I was so angry I was on the verge of putting my fist through the wall. Because John cares about you very much; I thought he should know."

"Don't you think it should have been up to me to tell him?" Evan asked quietly.

Randy had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "I suppose so, but will you believe that I thought I was acting in your best interests?"

"I guess," Evan said reluctantly, "But why all the scheming? All he had to do was approach me himself."

"How was he supposed to know that?" Randy asked impatiently. "You won't let anyone get near you these days." His voice softened, "I understand why, but you'll never find happiness if you push everyone away."

"It's easier that way," Evan said.

"Why didn't you come to me? Why didn't you tell me?" he asked gently. "I would have helped you; I would have protected you."

"You wouldn't understand; I was ashamed. How could I let someone treat me that way? I'm not like you. I'm not strong and confident. I couldn't bear the idea that anyone would know how weak and cowardly I was; how I couldn't fight back."

Randy felt his throat close and his eyes prickle, "Don't ever call yourself weak or cowardly. Do you remember when we first met? You were this skinny kid who was going to get into the business or die trying. You didn't listen to the people who laughed at you. I thought you were one of the most courageous people I'd ever met."

Evan felt himself grow warm at these words and again wondered at this side of Randy so few people saw. "Thanks. That means a lot coming from you. I know I sound ungrateful for everything you've ever done for me sometimes, but, believe me, I'm not."

"Then prove it. Anything I've ever done for you is because I want you to be happy. For the love of God, don't turn away the chance to be happy out of misplaced pride. Don't let what that bastard did to you ruin your life."

Evan remained silent for a moment. "All right. I'll talk to John later. But shouldn't you be getting ready to go on soon?" He grinned at Randy, "You're not nearly shiny enough yet."

Ducking as Randy threw a t-shirt at him, he slipped out of the dressing room.

John was just about ready to go on when he heard a tap at his dressing room door. Opening it, he was surprised and pleased to see Evan standing in the corridor, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"I'd like to talk to you later," he said.

"Of course. Come to my room after the show. That is," he added, "if that's okay with you."

Um –okay. I'll see you later then," he said turning away and heading down to the locker room.

John had made his way backstage to wait for his entrance when Randy beckoned him over.

"I don't know what you said to him," he said before Randy could speak, "and I don't want to know. I think it's time we stopped talking about him like we know what's best all the time. From now on, I do this on my own."

Randy sighed, "You're right, but be careful. He's-"

"No more advice," John held up his hand. "I know you have his welfare at heart, but you have to let me do this my own way." He ran through the curtains out to the ring.

Randy watched him go, his heart aching as he prayed to the God he no longer believed in that John and Evan might find each other and, that in doing so, their happiness might somehow help to fill the void he carried in his own soul.

They had both left the arena over half an hour ago, John thought as he paced around his room. Had Evan changed his mind? Was he not coming, after all? He was debating whether he should call him or not when his phone rang.

"John, you're on the executive floor. I can't get up there without a key card to swipe in the elevator," Evan said.

Cursing himself for his thoughtlessness, John told Evan he'd meet him in the lobby. Unfortunately, a group of conventioneers recognised him and crowded onto the elevator with them. He signed autographs and smiled with as much good nature as he could muster as they waved their hands in front of their faces, chanting, "You can't see me!"

Finally, he and Evan were alone in his room. "Sorry about that," he said. "I wasn't thinking. Can I get you anything?" asked, pulling a bottle of water out of the small fridge.

"No thanks," he answered, perching on the edge of one of the chairs.

"Why aren't you staying here?" John asked, twisting the cap off his water bottle and tossing it in the direction of the waste basket.

"Because I was so mad at you and Randy I didn't want to be around you."

"So, where are you staying?"

"In some rat hole near the airport. Right under the flight path."

"Serves you right," John chuckled. "That's what Randy said you'd done." As Evan's face darkened, he hurried to add, "I was worried; nobody knew where you were."

"You see? That's what I mean: you and Randy, talking about me; deciding you know what's best for me."

"I understand," he said, "and I promise it won't happen again. I told Randy to keep out of it from now on."

"Listen, I love Randy. He's been very good to me over the years and I'll always be grateful, but sometimes he treats me like a kid and it's incredibly annoying."

"I have no doubt," he replied. "When he fixes his mind on something there's no stopping him." It was true, he thought; a determined Randy was not to be inflicted lightly on ordinary mortals. Sitting down on the bed, he reached out and took Evan's hands in his own, "Will you believe me when I say that there was no scheming or plotting intended? I just wanted a chance to spend some time with you."

"I suppose so. I know I've kept away from everyone these days." Evan did not meet John's gaze, but neither did he pull his hands away.

"I understand that." He turned Evan's hand over to see his scarred palm. "I'm sorrier than I can say that something like this happened to you, but you're not an object of pity to me, I swear." He released his hand and tipped his chin up, forcing him to meet his eyes. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Evan remained silent for a long time, then, in a low voice, he began to speak. "I know, for a long time, everyone thought there was something going on between Randy and me, but there was never anything like that between us. People don't seem to believe that sometimes he's just plain nice. Anyway, between that and my goody-two-shoes image, no one ever showed any interest in me."

"And someone finally did?" John asked gently.

"Yes." Evan went on to tell of the excitement of arranging meetings and how, the first couple of times, he simply believed things had gotten out of hand. "You have to understand; most people treat me like I'm some kind of wide-eyed kid. When things got rough at first I didn't exactly mind. At least he was treating me like an adult, I thought."

For a moment, John was filled with shame; he was just as guilty as the rest: refusing to look beyond Evan's youthful appearance, believing that his small stature somehow made him less mature. And to think he believed that no one had ever been interested in him! If only he's spoken sooner!

"I soon realised what he was and ended it."

"And that's when this," he touched the scar gently, "happened?"

"No," Evan said, instinctively curling his hand into fist. "It was several weeks later. I saw that he was sniffing around someone else and warned them." His eyes closed for a second, then he continued, "He didn't appreciate that. He made that clear, but I'd rather not talk about it."

"Can't you tell me who it is?"

"No," he said desperately. "Don't you see? You have to work with him; you and Randy. I can't stand the idea that you'd know what he did. If Randy knew, he'd go after him, somehow. I don't want either of you putting your careers in jeopardy. I couldn't live with that."

"Randy thinks he knows who it is." As Evan went pale, he continued, "But don't be too worried; Randy has a very healthy instinct for self-preservation."

He got up and tossed the water bottle and stood, leaning against the dresser, "It makes me very happy that you trust me enough to tell me what happened and I'd like to think that, one day, you'll trust me enough to tell me who it was, but that's not why I was so quick to agree to talk to you tonight." He walked over to Evan's chair and dropped to a squat, taking his hands again, "I think we have some unfinished business to discuss."

Evan kept his eyes fixed on their hands. "I know," he muttered.

"Please, look at me," he murmured.

He lifted his eyes to John's face and caught his breath at the infinite tenderness and yearning he saw in those blue eyes.

"I care very deeply about you," he said, his eyes never wavering from Evan's face, "and I have for a long time. I'll never forgive myself for not having spoken sooner, for having wasted so much time. And you're not indifferent to me, are you?"

"No," he said in a low voice.

John lifted Evan's hand, pressing his lips against the scarred flesh, as he tentatively stroked his thumb against John's cheekbone. They remained motionless for several long minutes then John stood abruptly, pulling Evan up with him.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," he said. "We can take this as slowly as you like, but can I, at least, hold you for a little while?"

Evan nodded slowly and moved closer to John, who wrapped his arms around the smaller man and drew his close to his heart. As he felt Evan's arms slide around him, he bent his head and brushed a gentle kiss against his hair. When Evan's arms tightened their hold he pressed kisses against his brow, his eyes, his cheeks, and, finally, very softly, on his lips.

Evan reached up and curled his arm around John's neck, pulling his head down as he returned the kiss, opening his mouth slightly. John's big hand cradled Evan's head as he kissed him with increasing hunger, his tongue plundering the silken depths of Evan's mouth. Evan pressed against his body as John's lips printed a series of tiny kisses along the column of his neck and gave forth a small sigh of disappointment as John broke their contact.

His breathing slightly ragged, he cradled his head against his chest and said, "I want you to think about what I said. I want you to know that I'll wait for you, for as long as it takes because we are not doing anything more than this until you're ready."

"I-I think I'm ready now," he stammered.

"No, you're not. You're vulnerable and susceptible right now. I love you," he said quietly, "and, although I think you could love me, you don't yet. Am I right?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll wait until you do."

He was just about to climb into his bed when his phone rang. Without checking the caller ID, he pushed the talk button, "Randy, I'm not going to discuss what happened with you."

"But you did talk to him?"

"Yes and that's all I'm going to say."

Randy's sigh was apparent, even to John. "All right. I'll keep my nose out of your business from now on," he said as John ended the call.

John lay awake for a long time, replaying his conversation with Evan. Had he done the right thing in insisting that they wait? There was so little time before he would be gone, but he knew that he didn't want Evan coming to him until he was entirely sure. But then he thought about Evan's eager response to his kiss and about his compact body pressed against his own and hoped he possessed the control to wait.

The following Friday, after the show, Evan tossed on the pull-out couch on Randy's bus as they headed towards St Louis. Randy had offered to drop him at home; an offer he had gratefully accepted as it gave him time to think about his feelings for John.

He had met with John on Saturday and Sunday last week after the shows. They had shared a meal both nights, but John had done nothing more than take him into his arms for a brief embrace before bidding him good night. On Monday, after Raw, he had gone to John's room. They had contentedly watched sports' highlights for an hour until Evan had gone to use the bathroom. On his return, John had grasped his arm and pulled him onto his lap. Straddling John's hips as his hands roamed over his body, Evan had cupped his face between his hands and kissed him greedily, grinding his crotch against the other man's. But when his hand strayed down to free John's shirt from his waistband, he stopped him. Taking hold of Evan's hips, he had gently pushed him off his lap.

"Not until you love me," he had said.

In the days since, John had played a major part in all of his thoughts. Did he love him? He wasn't sure. He knew that he respected and admired him tremendously; he knew that he would always be grateful for his kindness and encouragement, but he also knew that, unless he could return John's feelings with a whole heart, it wouldn't be fair to either of them. John deserved someone who could love him without reservation and, until he could be sure of his own feelings, he would respect his wishes.

That, however, had all changed tonight. As soon as he had seen John backstage at the arena earlier, he had known. Although he had been tempted to change his plans then and there, a new plan formed in his mind.

Slipping into John's dressing room, he had crossed the small room purposefully and brought the bigger man's head down to claim a fiercely demanding kiss. "I missed you," he said.

"And I missed you." John's face had creased into a deep smile; there was no denying the expression on Evan's face as he gazed up at him, his brown eyes shining, as if lit from within.

"I'll be taking off with Randy as soon as the show's over tonight," he'd said, smiling as John's face fell with disappointment. "I'll see you at his place for lunch tomorrow, but I was wondering…" His voice trailed off.

"What?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to stay at my place tomorrow night. I owe you a pizza after the show. There's a good spot nearby." He'd looked directly into John's blue eyes, "I've never had anyone over there before."

John had caught his breath as the full realisation of Evan's words sank in. "I'd like that," he'd said softly.

"Good. I'll see you then," he'd said, kissing him swiftly before he left the room.

Was he frightened of making the commitment that John warranted? Yes, but he knew he could trust the other man absolutely. He thought about the paralysing fear and shame he had experienced over the past few months and thought of the comfort and solidity that John represented. He remembered Randy's words, "_You'll never find happiness if you push everyone away_." And he remembered his own response, "_It's easier that way_."

No, letting someone come close to him wouldn't be easy; love could hurt and its wounds could be far worse than any his body had sustained earlier this year, but lying in bed, as he travelled to his home, he knew that he would rather take a chance for happiness and John, than suffer the certain desolation of life without him.

Evan arrived at Randy's house shortly before noon. Opening the door, Sam gave him a quick hug and beckoned him upstairs, her finger to her lips.

Standing on the threshold of Alanna's room, Evan was greeted with a sight that he could never have pictured in his wildest dreams. John and Randy were perched awkwardly on small pink chairs, each holding a tiny teacup, nibbling on Animal Crackers. Unable to resist, he pulled his phone from his pocket and snapped a picture.

"I am so going to post this on Twitter," he grinned.

"Don't. You. Dare," Randy said between gritted teeth, a fixed smile on his face.

Evan picked the little girl up when she ran across the room to him. As she pressed several smacking kisses on his cheek, he said, "Hey Princess, I have your lovely picture in my bag. I take it with me everywhere I go." He kissed her on the cheek and set her down carefully. "Now, I'm going to go back downstairs and keep your mommy company, but I know that Daddy and John want to play tea party with you some more."

Following Sam downstairs, he shook with uncontrollable laughter. "I'm going to be able to retire on what those two will have to give me to erase that picture."

"E-mail it to me first," Sam laughed. "I'll have something to hold over Randy for the next ten years."

Accepting an iced tea from Sam, he followed her out to the deck.

"When do you go for your surgery?" she asked.

"In a couple of weeks."

"You know you're welcome to drop in anytime while you're off. Alanna and I would both love to see you."

Anything he might have said was cut off by Randy bursting through the door. He tried to reach into Evan's pocket to snatch his phone, but the smaller man sprinted down the yard away from him. Randy's long legs easily made up the distance, but when he attempted to grab him, Evan slithered out of his grasp.

"Get him!" he shouted to John, who was following close behind.

John dove for his legs and caught them, bringing Evan down onto the grass as Randy pounced on him. Randy fumbled in Evan's pocket until he got hold of the phone, John holding him down as Evan howled in outrage.

"Boys! Boys!" Sam yelled from the deck, "Watch Evan's shoulder!"

"Got it!" Randy exclaimed in triumph, pushing buttons on the phone. "And it's gone!"

John stood up, brushing off leaves and grass and helped Evan up.

"I'll get you for that," Evan said in low tones.

"Should I be afraid?" he asked, gently picking grass off Evan's hair.

"Yes," he grinned.

Randy and Sam watched this bit of byplay with interest, Sam sending an inquiring look at her husband, who smiled slightly and nodded.

"Honestly," she grumbled as she led them into the dining room, "anyone would think you guys are about six years old."

They enjoyed a leisurely lunch filled with conversation and laughter as Randy casually said, "I hear you and John are going for a pizza after the show. You know, we got a sitter for tonight; I can't remember the last time Sam and I went out for a St Louis pizza."

Evan and John both turned red as he attempted to answer Randy. "Well –um, it's not like we wouldn't be happy to have you join us, but –um…"

Finally, Sam cut in, "Don't listen to him, Evan. We wouldn't dream of intruding on your plans." As Evan sighed with relief, she continued, "And it's time for this young lady," she said gesturing to Alanna, who had insisted on sitting on her father's lap to eat her lunch, "to go for her nap."

"No!" the little girl pouted.

"That's her favourite word right now," she chuckled. "Daddy, take her upstairs."

Evan and John exchanged looks as Randy bore his protesting daughter off. "I can't wait until she's a teenager," Evan said. "Randy's going to have his hands full."

"Not to mention what'll happen when the boys start ringing the doorbell." John hooted with laughter at the image of Randy giving some unfortunate boy the third degree.

Randy came back downstairs and went to the kitchen to fill a small pink cup. "She wants a drink of water."

"Couldn't you have gotten it in the bathroom," Sam asked.

"No. It seems _someone_," he said, glaring at Evan, "told her the water in the bathroom is the same water that's in the toilet."

As all three men had PR commitments for the afternoon, they reluctantly got ready to leave, Evan hugging Sam affectionately and promising to visit when he was off.

"We haven't had a second to ourselves yet," John complained as they made their way to their respective cars.

"No, and I don't suppose we will until after the show tonight." Evan glanced swiftly up and down the street and, with surprising strength, pushed John against his car, pulling his head down to kiss him deeply. "I'll see you later," he said.

It was past eleven when they were finally seated in a restaurant near Evan's apartment. Although they had been placed in a secluded booth, meaningful conversation was impossible as they were constantly interrupted by requests for autographs and pictures.

"What a fantastic show!" Evan exclaimed. "What a great crowd!" Still high from the thunderous pop he had received from his hometown fans, he chattered non-stop until he realised that John was smiling indulgently at him.

"I'm sorry," he said, between greedy bites, "I haven't even asked what you think of the pizza."

"I'll admit I was beginning to wonder when you were going to stop to take a breath, but you deserve to be excited. You were great tonight; the crowd loved you."

"Did you hear the crowd cheer for Randy?" Suddenly he stopped, realising what he had just asked. "Sorry. Dumb question. You were there, too."

"Yes, I was, but it _is_ a great evening," he smiled meaningfully at Evan. "A terrific show, a fantastic crowd, good pizza and better company."

"And, hopefully, it will get even better," he said, turning bright pink.

"I think it will," John replied covering Evan's hand briefly with his own.

"Then let's get out of here."


	2. Chapter 2

Evan led John into his apartment. Since they had left the restaurant, an awkward silence had fallen between them. "Um –do you want a beer or something?" he asked.

"No." he took a seat on the couch. "Your place is very –um tidy," he said, looking around the sparsely furnished room.

"You mean it's empty, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"I bounced around so much before I signed with WWE that I never really had a place to settle down. Sometimes I think about getting something more permanent, but I'm still on the road so much it doesn't seem to be worth the trouble." He sat down next to John.

"That's wrong," he said. "Everyone should have a home, somewhere they look forward to being."

"What about you? What do you go home to?"

"A house. It's pretty nice, I suppose; full of fancy toys and gadgets, but at the end of the day, it's just as empty as this place," he said, taking Evan's hand, "when there's nobody to share it with."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Evan staring down at their hands.

"Isn't there something you need to tell me?" John asked.

"Yes," he said in a low voice. Finally, he raised his eyes to look at John's face. "I-I've never said it to anyone before. You said you'd wait until I knew if I loved you; last night, when I saw you at the arena, I knew." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I always respected you and admired you; I've always thought you were the best man I know." He took John's face between his hands and kissed him softly. "And now, I love you," he whispered.

He pulled Evan onto his lap so that he straddled his hips. Wrapping his arms around the smaller man, he murmured, "And I love you," before his mouth descended upon Evan's.

John's kiss was gentle at first, as his tongue traced the contours of Evan's lips before slipping into his mouth, but as the other man pressed against him; his lips became greedier and more demanding. Evan returned his kisses with a matching hunger, nibbling at his lower lip and drawing it into his mouth. John pulled his shirt free from his waistband and his hands began to roam over Evan's torso. Breaking the kiss, Evan impatiently unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside, catching his breath as John buried his face in the crook of his neck, his teeth gently grazing the tender flesh.

Suddenly, Evan stood and took him by the hand, leading him to the bedroom, but when John attempted to turn on the bedside lamp, he caught his hand and pushed him gently until he sat on the edge of the bed. He grabbed John's shirt and pulled it over his head, nudging him until he lay on his back. He smoothed his hands along John's arms and over his chest, his fingers tracing the ridges and contours of the heavy muscles. He lowered his head and began to press soft kisses along his collar bone, his lips tracing a path down to his nipple. He took it gently between his teeth and flicked his tongue raising it to a hard nub before turning his attention to the other, his tongue lapping at the proud flesh.

As Evan opened the button on his jeans, John reached out towards the lamp, but Evan stayed his hand again.

"Don't you want to be able to look at me?" he asked, hurt and puzzlement evident in his voice.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Then why won't you let me -" suddenly he broke off. "You don't want me to see you! Why?"

The moonlight streaming in through the open curtains illuminated the room enough that John could see Evan's shoulders slump as he sat up, perching on the edge of the bed, twisting his hands. He'd heard through the company grapevine that Evan was considered excessively modest in the locker room, but he didn't think that his reluctance to have the lights on was caused by any shyness.

"Please John!" he begged. "Don't ask me. Not tonight."

"All right," he said gently, taking him into his arms, wondering what demons he was fighting.

Evan buried his head in John's chest, savouring their closeness as he reached down to open his jeans. Drawing out his shaft, he wrapped his fingers around its thickness and moved his hand along its length, his thumb reaching out to capture the single drop that gleamed pearl-like at the tip. He tugged John's jeans down and bent his head, running his tongue along the vein on the underside and flicking at the tiny sensitive ridge before closing his mouth over the head.

John gasped as he felt Evan's mouth move along his shaft, taking in his entire length as he cupped his balls, rolling them gently in his palm. For several long minutes he gave himself up to the delicious suction of Evan's mouth, but as he felt him increase his speed and felt his own hips begin to jerk as he approached his peak, he reached down and gently lifted his head from his groin.

"What's the hurry?" he whispered. "We have all night.

He pulled Evan up level with him and stroked his face tenderly, his fingers lingering as they traced a path along his neck. For an instant, his big hand circled Evan's neck, the sight of his fingers curling around the tender flesh causing him to catch his breath. He swept his hand across his chest, revelling in the way he could cover so much of the younger man's compact torso. Slipping his hand into the waistband of Evan's jeans, he sought his shaft, but when his hand closed around, he realised that he was still soft. He moved down the bed, tugging his jeans and briefs down to take him into his mouth. Although Evan made soft sounds of pleasure, he remained unresponsive until John lifted his head.

"I'm sorry," he choked. "I can't." He sat up, drawing up his knees, burying his head in his crossed arms. "I want to, more than you know, but I can't."

"It's all right," John said, trying to mask his disappointment as he moved back up the bed and took Evan into his arms. "We can wait."

"No, you don't understand," he cried. "I don't want to wait. I want to make love to you; I want you to make love to me, but I haven't been able to since –since"

"Since this?" he asked, taking his horribly scarred hand.

"No, it started before. I stopped responding; it made him even angrier. I hoped so much that tonight things would be different." He pulled his hand away and climbed out of the bed, pulling up his jeans. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, leaving the room.

Clad only in his boxers, John followed him into the living room to find him seated on the couch, staring dully ahead. Who had done this to him, he wondered again. How could he help him?

"I wish you had told me about this earlier," he said, sitting next to him. "Have you seen anyone about it?"

"My doctor offered me a prescription." He laughed bitterly, "That's all I need: to have that show up in a drug test."

"What about another kind of help?"

"You mean like a shrink?" At John's nod he continued, "Yes, I had a couple of sessions. He said I needed to learn how to trust again. That's why I thought it might work tonight. I should have known better."

John felt his heart break at the sight of Evan's torment. "Then I'll have to teach you to trust me. Will you let me?" he asked softly. As Evan struggled to answer, he added, "I promise: no questions until you're ready; no demands; anything you want."

"Can we go back to the bedroom?" he asked. "Please, believe me; I want you and I want to give you pleasure. Will you let me prove it?"

"Yes," he answered, effortlessly scooping Evan up into his arms, "for as long as it takes."

He carried him back into the darkened bedroom and settled him on the bed. Shedding his boxers, he climbed onto the bed and pulled Evan's jeans and briefs off, kneeling between his legs. "I still need to be able to touch you," he murmured as he brought Evan's legs up over his shoulders and lowered his mouth. His tongue reached out to lap at Evan's puckered opening, circling it with long lazy strokes. Although Evan remained soft, he sighed and squirmed with pleasure at John's caresses, handing him a small bottle of lube.

He oiled his fingers and carefully pushed one in Evan's entrance. He felt him tense, but he did not pull away. "Go ahead, please," he said. "I want you to."

John began to move his finger slowly and, as he felt Evan begin to relax, gently pushed in a second finger. Evan's hips began to rise and fall as John moved his fingers and, when John curled his fingers to brush against his most sensitive spot, he caught his breath suddenly. He kept thrusting his fingers, taking care to graze the same spot. He could hear Evan giving forth soft gasps of enjoyment even as he remained flaccid. John intensified his efforts, attempting to elicit a response, until Evan reached down to stop his hand. Recalling his promise to place no demands on the other man, he eased his fingers from him and moved up the bed to cover his body with his own.

Evan arched and writhed under him, feverishly pressing kisses against the smooth skin of his chest, neck and shoulder, laughing softly when he gave a slightly sharp nip that caused John to huff in surprise. Squirming out from under the bigger man, he rummaged in the nightstand until he found a condom, which he handed to John.

John carefully unrolled it down his length and fumbled in the dark until he found the bottle of oil. He poured a generous amount over himself and grasped Evan's hips, rolling him atop himself.

"Ride me," he said. "Take as much or as little as you want, at your own speed."

Evan straddled him, very slowly easing himself down his thick shaft, while John gritted his teeth and fought for control as he was enclosed by Evan's incredibly tight warmth. When he was fully seated, he lay back and waited until Evan began to move, slowly at first, then more quickly. He could hear him panting lightly and regretted Evan's insistence that the lights were off, wishing that he could see his face. In the darkness, he could just make out Evan's profile, his head thrown back; there were definite signs that he was experiencing some pleasure. If only he could break down the last of his walls, he thought, but then he thought no more as the sensation of Evan's heat overwhelmed him and he caught hold of the younger man, cradling him against his chest as he burst forth.

He held Evan close for a long time as his breathing slowed down, wishing that he had been able to achieve completion as well, but, remembering his words, swore not to press him. Carefully moving away, he went to the bathroom and disposed of the condom.

When he returned, Evan was sitting up hugging his knees. Aching to reassure him, he climbed into the bed and leaned back against the pillow, pulling him between his legs, so that his back rested against his chest. He rested his lips against the soft skin of the back of his neck and waited until he felt him relax in his arms.

"I'm sorry you couldn't enjoy that as much as I did."

Twisting around to face him, Evan replied, "No! It was wonderful. _Really_. You were wonderful. I just wish I had more to give you. What if I never do? You deserve so much more."

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. I know I promised not to make any demands, but will you do one thing?"

"Anything."

"Keep seeing that counsellor. You've been through a terrible experience and you have a difficult ordeal ahead of you. Don't do for me," he begged, "do it for yourself." As Evan nodded slowly he gathered him into his arms and settled them down, curling himself around the smaller man. "Good. Now we need to get some sleep. We have a big show tomorrow night."

Evan nestled against him and soon his deep breathing told John that he had fallen asleep. Had he made a mistake, he wondered. Had it been too soon for Evan? Would they be able to overcome Evan's demons? He didn't know, but he knew already that his world would be bleak and empty without Evan in his arms.

XXX

Their arrival together at the arena the following afternoon had already started a low hum of speculation when Randy grabbed Evan and hauled him into his dressing room.

"I'm not going to pry into what happened between you and John last night. Unless," he grinned at Evan, "you feel like telling. But you _are_ sharing my dressing room tonight."

"Randy, that's very kind of you, but it's not necessary," he protested. He had already refused to share with John. Although they had agreed that there was no need to hide their relationship, Evan was not willing to make a display of it either.

"God, you're stubborn," Randy grumbled. "Listen, everyone in the company is already talking about you and John. Wouldn't you rather change without two dozen pairs of eyes staring at you? Or were you planning on getting undressed in the broom closet again?"

"It wasn't the broom closet," he argued. "It was just a washroom cubicle and you know why." He stared defiantly at Randy for a minute then dropped his eyes.

"Yes," Randy sighed, "I know why. All the more reason for you to change here tonight."

Realising that it was impossible to argue with Randy when he had set his mind on something, he finally agreed. He changed quickly and left the room, saying, "I guess next time I see you, you'll be the champ." He paused at the door. "You deserve it, Randy," he said softly. "I know I don't show it or say it very often, but I love you and I'm proud to call you my friend."

Randy crossed the small room swiftly, pulling Evan into his arms. "Thanks," he said, holding him close for an instant. "John had better be good to you or he'll have to answer to me."

XXX

After Evan's small part in the show had ended he lingered backstage, sharing memories of wrestling in the indies with Tyson and laughing and joking with a number of the others. Although he could feel speculative eyes on him, he realised that he didn't care; he was proud to think that John had chosen him and didn't mind who knew. As he relaxed and chatted with his co-workers, he marvelled that he had allowed himself to become so isolated, for so long, and basked in their warm wishes for a swift recovery.

He made his way down the corridor and was about to let himself into Randy's dressing room when he froze at the sound of a sneering voice behind him, "It must be nice to have friends in high places."

He felt himself grow cold as the blood drained from his face, but forced himself to turn and face the other man. "Yes," he said, a great deal more calmly than he felt, "it is nice to have friends, but you wouldn't understand that."

He reached out and grabbed Evan's hand, twisting his fingers painfully until he felt one of them snap. Evan felt tears of pain to spring to his eyes and something else: a rage so powerful and deep that it left him breathless. With all his strength, he pushed the other man against the wall and rested his forearm against his throat. "Don't _ever_ touch me again!" he hissed. Abruptly, he released him, turning away as he added, "Don't forget, I have friends in high places."

Letting himself into the dressing room, he collapsed into a chair, shaking from head to foot. He stared dispassionately at his finger, which was already swelling and throbbing. He'd better go see the trainer, he thought, giving thanks that the corridor had been deserted during that encounter.

XXX

Evan was wrong: someone else had been in the hallway. Randy had always moved with a curiously silent tread for a man of his size and had rounded the corner just in time to see him shove his tormentor against the wall. Staying in the shadows until Evan had gone into the dressing room, he smiled grimly to himself. Evan was right: he did have friends in high places and this individual was about to learn that to his cost.

XXX

It was the small hours of the night when John and Evan returned to their hotel room. They had gone for dinner with Randy and some others and moved on to a club where they had spent several hours celebrating Randy's latest win.

Stumbling into the room, John yawned hugely and flopped onto the bed. "Man, am I beat!" The adrenaline from the show was finally spent, leaving him exhausted.

"Oh, isn't that just great!" Evan complained playfully. "Our second night and you're already too tired. It's okay," he added, "I'm pretty tired, too."

"You should be from all that dancing. I never knew you were such a demon on the dance floor."

"I'm not usually. I just felt like cutting loose tonight; I was having such a great time."

John undressed quickly and switched off the light as he disappeared into the bathroom, chuckling to himself over the memory of Evan dancing with an abandon he would never have believed if he hadn't seen it for himself. He remembered a frankly tipsy Cody Rhodes stopping at his table and asking, "What's gotten into Evan?" Randy and Ted had roared with laughter as he had turned beet-red and Cody had shrieked with glee before heading back onto the floor.

"If I didn't know he was still on his first beer, I'd say he was drunk. I've never seen him like this," he had said to Randy.

"I have," Randy answered. "Sometimes, years ago, I'd go see him in a show and we'd go clubbing afterwards. He's happy and excited; it's been too long since I've seen him this way." He squeezed John's arm briefly, "And it's all your doing."

John had swallowed hard; there had been something different about Evan. He seemed relaxed and confident. How he hoped Randy was right: that it was to do with him. And he had begun to feel hopeful that, in time, he would breach the last of Evan's walls."

"How did he hurt his finger?" he'd asked Randy. By time he had returned backstage Evan's finger was already in a splint and he had dismissed it as an accident. "I watched his match and I couldn't see. Did you see when it happened?"

"No," Randy had answered, although his face darkened briefly.

Evan came out from the bathroom and shed his clothes, climbing into the bed. John pillowed his head on his shoulder and took his hand, "How did this happen?"

He had already prepared a glib lie, but decided that John deserved better than that. He took a deep breath. "I ran into an old acquaintance. It wasn't a very pleasant encounter." As John caught his breath in shock, he continued, "But I don't think he'll bother me again." He could tell that John was struggling to remain silent and pulled his head down to kiss him. "Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?"

"For not asking. I promise that one day, soon, I'll tell you."

"I said, 'Whenever you're ready,' and I meant it."

I know you did," Evan said, his head already beginning to nod drowsily. "That's just another reason for me to love you."

John brushed a kiss against his hair and settled down to sleep feeling hopeful that, in time, his love would help Evan to become whole again.

XXX

Over the next couple of weeks they grew closer as Evan gradually opened up to John, reliving with difficulty the physical and emotional abuse that had battered his self-esteem as much as it had his body. But not all of his confidences were as bleak as he related tales of the kindness and encouragement Randy and his father had offered him when he was first starting out.

John, in turn, shared his ambivalence about his squeaky-clean image and the pressure involved in being considered a role-model and, one night, opened his heart entirely concerning the Nexus storyline.

"I read once, that Floyd Patterson said that it's easy being the good guy when you're winning, but when you're losing, you want the other guy to be good for a while, so you have an excuse to be bad. That's exactly how I feel," he sighed. "But I suspect that you know how that feels, probably more that anyone else in the company."

"You mean the scrappy under-dog, who always has a positive attitude?" he grinned. "No, I wouldn't know anything about that," he added with his most innocent look. "By the way," he said casually, "thanks for speaking to the bookers."

John flushed, "I knew you didn't want to get written out by being squashed by the Nexus. I don't blame you. I just kind of suggested Phil. You guys were great in OVW."

"I'll admit I wasn't looking forward to getting my ass kicked by Slater or –or Gabriel."

"I think you'll be happy with their plans for you when you come back. I just wish I could be with you next week when you have your surgery and I hate the idea of you being all alone in that shoebox you call a home."

"It's okay," he answered. "I'm going to stay with my folks for a week or so after and Sam's already informed me that I'm going over there at least once a week. I swear she's even bossier than Randy."

"I promise I'll be out there to see you as soon as I can," he said. "At least I'll have some free time coming up soon."

"I'm looking forward to having you all to myself for a day or two," Evan said, kissing him hungrily.

Although Evan was still unable to respond fully in their lovemaking, he was an eager and ardent participant, assuring him that he experienced great joy and felt sure that the time would come when he would be able to share completely in their pleasure. John had reason to hope that this was true: the past two mornings he had woken to feel something pressing against him. Soon, he hoped, Evan's trust in him would be absolute enough that his mind would stop controlling his body. He had made no move to turn the lights on when they were together. Again, he hoped that, soon, Evan would be ready to come out from the shadows.

XXX

Evan slipped into the washroom cubicle to strip off his jeans and change into his tights. The din of the crowded locker room was beginning to press in on him and he wanted a minute to collect himself as he prepared for his last match before his surgery. Almost everyone had treated him with great kindness over the past few days; he was going to miss them, but Vince had already assured him that he was anxious to involve him in PR as soon as he felt able.

"Jesus Evan! Have you fallen in there?" called a voice, accompanied by pounding on the door.

He must not have locked the door properly because it swung open just as Evan was about to step into his tights. He could hear several shocked gasps before he slammed the door shut and low murmurs of disbelief as everyone made a hurried exit.

Finally, there was tap on the door. "Evan?" He recognised David Hart Smith's voice. "It's okay. Everyone's gone." When he didn't reply, David asked, "Do you want me to get Randy? Or John?"

"No," he managed to reply. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Take your time. No one will bother you."

"Thank you," he choked as he heard him leave the room.

He pulled on his tights and exited the cubicle, sitting on a bench to put on his shin guards and boots, but, when he attempted to tie the drawstring on his tights, his hands were shaking so badly that he simply tucked it in. He picked up his tape and began to wrap his wrist and hand, staring for a long time at his scarred right palm. He thought about John pressing his lips against it and stood suddenly.

Why was he cowering in the locker room, afraid to face the others? He had done nothing wrong; he had no reason to be ashamed. He remembered Randy's words, "_For the love of God, don't turn away the chance to be happy out of misplaced pride_." There were a dozen or more people outside that door who cared about him, who wished him well. He could turn his back on them, run away from them and go back to being the cringing, solitary shell of himself that he had been for the past few months or he could face them, acknowledge their genuine concern and rejoin the human race, embracing the joy and, yes, even the pain that came with it.

He reflected on Randy's kindness and encouragement over the years and he thought about John's unconditional love and support and determined, in that moment, to be worthy of them and flung the locker room door open to face the men milling casually about.

"Would you guys get back in there, please?" He grinned at them, "Everyone is going to think I had beans for lunch and stunk the place out."

Laughing self-consciously, they filed back into the locker room. Evan sat quietly on a bench and finished taping his hands as he watched the men around him prepare for their own matches. Maybe it was the knowledge that he would be leaving them, if only for a short time, that made them seem especially dear to him: Tyson, his opponent from earlier days, David, who battled shyness so at odds with his imposing appearance, Ted, struggling to make a name for himself apart from his father's legacy and Mike, on the brink of achieving superstardom.

He left the locker room and wandered through the backstage. There were others there: some he knew well; others, only slightly, and standing together across the vast expanse were Randy and John: his friend and his lover. As he waved at them both, he heard his music start up and, with his head held high, he ran out to the ring to wrestle his last match before he was forced to leave them all.

XXX

Randy stared at the cringing figure on the bed with contempt; He would have preferred more spirit, more fight, but, just as he has suspected, this one was nothing more than a sadistic bully, who folded before someone stronger.

He deliberately unbuckled his belt and pulled it free from the loops on his jeans, laughing softly as the eyes of the bound man on the bed widened with terror. It whistled through the air as he brought it down. How he longed to criss-cross the smooth skin of his back with bloody stripes, to raise angry weals on his buttocks, to mark him and scar him forever, but he contented himself with his cries, muffled by an improvised gag, as the belt fell ever nearer, but never touched him.

Yes, gagging him with his own underwear had been an inspired touch, he thought, relishing the other man's humiliation. And, just as he began to feel safe from the sting of the leather, he brought the belt down, with a whip-lash crack, across the soles of his feet. Over and over again, he plied the belt, the man's high-pitched cries, soothing his jangled nerves.

Dropping the belt, he watched the tears run down his face. How many tears had he forced Evan to shed, he wondered as he fished his cigarettes out of his pocket. Ignoring the no smoking sign, he lit one up and sat on the edge of the bed, drawing on it. He flicked his ashes on him, smiling grimly as he jumped from the momentary heat.

"I'd like to put this out in your eye," he remarked in an eerily pleasant tone, "but don't worry, I won't mark your pretty face."

He rested the burning ember on his buttock for a second, closing his eyes and letting his whimpers wash over him, before dropping the butt into a beer can on the nightstand. Stroking the soft skin of his back, he murmured with mock tenderness, "What a pretty boy you are! So soft! So smooth!" His finger strayed into the crease between his cheeks and slowly pressed inside. "So willing!" he marvelled as the younger man began to respond. He watched his hips rise and fall as he moved his finger and heard a muffled gasp as he pushed in a second finger. "So ready to play! Aren't you?" He grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back viciously, "Aren't you?" he whispered in his ear.

He managed a faint nod and Randy laughed. "Of course you are. You were quick enough to agree to meet me tonight. Or was it my offer? One night, anything I want for gold around your waist." He feigned hurt, "And here I was thinking that maybe you liked me. Now you've hurt my feelings."

As he shook his head frantically, Randy removed the gag and loosened the ties that bound him. "I think you'd better try to convince me." He dropped his jeans and boxers and stood before the young man, placing his hands on either side of his face. He stared ahead sightlessly as his mouth closed over him, thrusting carelessly, his victim's gags and whimpers seeming to come from far away.

Finally, he shoved him away. "You'll have to do better than that."

Pushing him onto the bed, he found a condom in his jeans and rolled it down his length and sank into him with a brutal thrust, laughing scornfully as he cried out. In the white-hot heat of rage, Randy was tireless as he rode him, plunging as hard as he could, delivering a ringing slap across his ear when it appeared he was responding. And throughout he muttered a stream of abuse in a curious sing-song voice, as if the words sprang from a source he could not recognise.

At last, he began to slow the force of his assault, leaning down he pressed his chest, slick with sweat against the other man's back. Jerking his head back by the hair, he hissed, "You disgust me. But don't be afraid; I'll keep my end of the bargain. You'll get your gold. It's nice to have friends in high places, isn't it?" He wrapped his arm around his neck, pressing on his windpipe. "Isn't it?"

"Yes," he gasped.

Randy released him and climbed off the bed. Peeling off the condom, he shoved himself back into his mouth. "You know," he said conversationally, "we know someone who has many friends in high places; more than you know; more than he knows." Sneering, as he gagged and retched, he continued, "In fact, I had a little chat with one of them yesterday. He was not one bit pleased when I told him what you had done. It seems he's very fond of him. And so are his wife and his father-in-law."

As the full import of Randy's words sank in, his eyes opened wide and he went still. Grabbing him by the back of the head, Randy continued to drive relentlessly, speaking calmly all the while. "No, Hunter was not at all happy. In fact, he wanted to join me tonight, but I convinced him otherwise. But he will be keeping a very close eye on you in the future. I suggest that you keep your fun and games away from the company, from now on."

Pulling away, he stared down at the other man with loathing and released a stream, laughing as the other man realised that the acrid, stinging spray was not semen and tried frantically to avert his face. Lighting another cigarette, he nudged the huddled, sodden heap that was Justin Gabriel and pointed to the bathroom.

"Get in there and clean yourself up." He smiled wolfishly, "The night's still young."

XXX

It was almost two in the morning when John and Evan made it back to their room. Several members of the company had insisted on taking Evan out for beer and wings after the show. They had been joined by a large number of the backstage personnel and the bookers and road agents.

"It's too bad Randy couldn't make it," John remarked as he untied his shoes.

"It's okay," Evan shrugged. "He insisted on dropping me home tomorrow. You know he usually takes off right after the show, but he said he'd wait until morning for me."

"I know he said he had some business to take care of, but-" John stopped abruptly as Evan turned white.

"What, exactly, did he say?"

"He said he had some business to take care of. What's wrong?" he asked as Evan's agitation increased.

"About ten years ago, we were at some restaurant back home and a group of four guys were sitting across from us. They were really drunk and obnoxious and they were giving the waitress a hard time. One of them got up to go to the washroom and started groping her; you get the idea."

"I can just imagine Randy's reaction."

"Exactly. After we paid our bill, he waited for them in the parking lot. He told me to wait in the car. His exact words were, 'I've got some business to take care of.' He beat those guys to a pulp; all four of them."

"And do you think he might be doing something similar tonight?" John asked.

"Yes. I saw him leave the arena with-" He began to pace around the room. "I never thought about it. I just thought they were leaving at the same time."

Suddenly, a light bulb went off in John's head. He'd seen Randy and the young South African in quiet conversation a couple of times over the last several days. He caught hold of Evan's arm and pulled him down to sit next to him. "It was Gabriel," he said quietly. "Wasn't it?"

"Yes." He sat twisting a button on his shirt.

John put his arms around him. "Do you remember me telling you that Randy has a very healthy instinct for self-preservation?" As Evan nodded, he went on, "Then don't worry about him. As for Gabriel," his voice hardened, "he deserves whatever comes his way."

"Maybe so, but I wish it wasn't at Randy's hands."

"I know you do, but Randy loves you. He's ruthless when it comes to people he loves."

"I know," Evan sighed. Poor Randy, he thought. He hovered at the edge of the abyss; only a very few knew how hard he fought every day to keep from casting himself into it.

John tipped Evan's chin up with his forefinger. "Thank you for telling me."

"It's funny," Evan said, "I was so frightened of anybody finding out about him and what he did, but now it doesn't seem to matter. He has no hold over me anymore." He finally looked up and gave John a smile of piercing sweetness, "And that's because of you. You gave that to me."

"All I did was love you."

"No, it's so much more than that. You gave me your strength; you made me strong. You gave me your trust; you taught me to trust. You gave me your courage; you made me brave. I said before that you're the best man I know; you're making me worthy of you," said simply, sliding his arms around him and reaching up to claim his mouth.

John swallowed hard, clasping Evan in his arms as the younger man covered his face with kisses and buried his head in the crook of his neck, pressing gentle kisses on his throat. Suddenly, Evan slid from the bed and crouched down at John's feet, pulling of his socks and shoes. As John pulled at the hem of his shirt, Evan grasped his hands.

"Let me," he whispered.

He slowly pushed John's shirt upwards, exposing his abdomen and chest. He pushed him back onto the bed and traced a path with his lips as he revealed more of his torso. At last, he pulled the shirt over his head as he suckled delicately, nipping at his neck.

John laughed softly, "My little vampire."

Evan lifted his head and playfully bit him on the shoulder as he opened John's flies, pushing down his jeans and boxer shorts. He took firm hold of him as he moved down the bed and lowered his head to his groin. He began to lick at his balls with slow, lapping strokes, running his tongue along the length of his shaft and swirling it around the head while John gasped with pleasure.

John pulled Evan up so that he was level with him and covered his mouth with his own. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth and nibbled on it gently as he freed Evan's shirt from his waistband and tugged it over his head. John ran his slightly calloused fingertips along the length of Evan's torso as the smaller man arched and sighed with delight, pressing himself against his chest and returning his kisses hungrily.

He opened the button on Evan's jeans and reached across to switch off the lamp on the nightstand when Evan took hold of his hand.

"Leave it on," he said in a low voice.

Climbing out of the bed, Evan stripped off his jeans and dropped his briefs and turned around slowly.

"Oh my God!" John whispered, horror-struck.

His buttocks and the backs of his legs were covered with scars. His skin was criss-crossed with thin, red welts and angry, raised weals marred his pale flesh. "Most of them should fade eventually, I was told," he mumbled.

"What did he do to you?' John asked as Evan sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

"It was a belt. I didn't dare struggle because I was afraid he'd mark my back or chest."

John pulled Evan down next to him and pillowed his head on his shoulder, "Why didn't you go to Randy? He would have helped you."

"Because I was afraid and ashamed." He propped himself up on his elbow, "But I'm not anymore." He recounted the incident in the locker room that evening. "I finally realised that I have nothing to be ashamed of. Except, maybe, for displaying poor judgement." He smiled crookedly at John. "That's something else you gave to me," he said tracing John's features with his fingertips.

John trailed his fingers down Evan's back and along his crease. "What's this?" he murmured as his fingertips came away, slick with oil. "You're already lubed." As his finger pushed against his entrance he encountered an unyielding object. "You've got a plug in there."

"I wanted to be ready for you. I may not be able to –to, you know, but I wanted to make sure you knew that I _do_ want you. I want to feel you inside of me."

He felt his heart wrench at Evan's desperate desire to please. "You didn't have to do that. I believe you."

"But I wanted to. You've done so much for me and there's so little I can do for you."

John rolled atop him and stroked his face. "Don't ever say that. I know how difficult this must be for you. I'm honoured to think that you can give me your trust and your love. All I try to do is to be worthy of it."

He carefully removed the plug and smoothed on a condom. As Evan's legs wrapped around his waist, he gently pushed in, revelling in, for the first time, the sight of his face as he filled him. He began to move slowly, Evan rising to meet him. Struggling for control, he drank in Evan's face: his cheeks flushed, his mouth slightly open, his brown eyes huge and trusting; his gaze never wavering.

He tenderly stroked his throat, his hand curling around his neck for an instant, when Evan caught his fingers.

"Do it," he whispered.

He stopped moving and caught his breath. "Do you know what you're asking me to do?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," he said. "I want you to. I love you; I trust you with everything I have in me; even my life, with my last breath."

John remained silent as desire and concern warred within him. "All right," he finally said. "Take hold of my wrist. If you panic or want me to stop, just let go. Do you understand?"

As Evan nodded, he began to move again, changing the angle of his thrust until he knew he was brushing against his most sensitive spot. Watching Evan's face carefully, he softly drew his fingers across his neck.

"Inhale," he said.

Still caressing gently, he said, "Exhale."

Evan's eyes were huge and wondering, but in no way fearful, as his thumb applied the faintest pressure. "Inhale."

John continued to move, releasing his thumb. "Exhale."

For several minutes he exerted no more than the very slightest of force, thrusting in concert as his thumb applied and released pressure, Evan following his commands without hesitation.

He pushed a tiny bit harder. "Inhale," he said. This time his breath was slightly laboured and his eyes widened in surprise as his thrust grazed against his most susceptible place.

"Exhale," he murmured, but did not completely let go as he withdrew slightly.

"Inhale." He circled Evan's neck with his fingers, squeezing a little more. Evan's face was reddening. "Do you want me to go on?" he asked. As Evan nodded, he eased his hold on his throat, but only somewhat as he told him to exhale.

John searched Evan's face for any sign of fear, but could find none. Gritting his teeth to maintain control, he pressed down again. "Inhale." Evan was struggling for breath, but his grip on John's wrist remained firm. He held Evan's throat longer this time, sweat dripping from his brow as he fought off the sensation of Evan's tightness as the sight of his big hand, curled around Evan's neck, threatened to send him over the edge.

He let up the tiniest bit. "Exhale," he said, but almost immediately tightened his hand. "Inhale."

He knew Evan had almost reached his limit: his face was red, his mouth wide open as he attempted to pull air into his lungs, his entire body rigid with the effort of not struggling against him. And then he noticed something else: pressed against his belly, Evan's shaft was fully erect.

Slowly easing his grip on Evan's neck, he watched as he gratefully took several deep breaths and his colour returned to normal. Taking firm hold of his length, he began to drive forward purposefully, Evan groaning as he brushed against the spot that increased his pleasure. As he clawed at the bed sheets, John's loving became deeper and fiercer as he watch Evan climb to the summit and shoot forth several pearly strands as he cried out hoarsely. The excitement and wonder on Evan's face and the clenching of his muscles was too much for John and he surrendered himself completely, pouring out his own essence into the other man.

They lay still for a long time, their laboured breathing the only sound in the room. Finally, John eased away and went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. Returning, he climbed back into the bed. Evan gave him a radiant smile and, taking his hand between his own, kissed it. "Thank you," he said simply.

He gathered the smaller man into his arms, "No, thank _you_."

"No, thank _you_." Evan grinned at John, "I can do this all day."

"Okay, you win," he chuckled, brushing a kiss on his hair, "but how did you know that I liked –um that?"

Evan began to laugh. "Remember when we were snowed-in in Des Moines a couple of years ago?"

John nodded and flushed.

"Remember getting into a drinking contest with Randy?"

"Yes," he said cautiously.

"Remember playing truth or dare? God, you two were bored."

"Oh no!" he groaned. "I didn't, did I?"

"You sure did, but don't worry," he hastened to add, "Almost everyone there was incredibly hammered. I'm sure no one else remembers what you said."

"God, I hope so. The last thing I remember is Cody daring Randy to stand on a snow bank, in his wrestling gear, doing his pose. Did he?"

"Not exactly," Evan laughed. "He put on his boots and kneepads, but not his trunks. The road agent was not pleased."

"I don't suppose he was, but that's Randy for you."

"It sure is," he replied, a shadow crossing his face as he wondered what Randy was doing that night and at what cost to his soul.

"And considering that he will be picking you up in about," he peered at the bedside clock, "four hours, you'd better get some sleep."

"I have plenty of time to sleep," Evan said, staying John's hand as he reached out to turn off the lamp, "but only a few more hours with you."

By the time the sky lightened to a grey dawn, John and Evan were pale, heavy-eyed and sated.

"I still wish I could be there with you this week," John complained.

"It's just as well," Evan replied. "I'll probably be goofy and grouchy for the first couple of days. Anyway, by the time you have your break I'll be much better company." His phone rang and he spoke into it for a second. "That was Randy. He's waiting for me out front."

John pulled him into his arms for a final embrace. "Remember," he said, "call me if you need me; no matter what; no matter when. I'll be there."

"I know," he said picking up his bag and leaving the room.

The room looked out over the front of the hotel. Looking out the window, John saw Evan emerge from the front entrance and open the door to Randy's bus. Pausing on the step, he turned to look up and lifted his hand, before climbing in and closing the door behind him.

XXX

Randy was strangely restless and talkative on the bus. Like Evan, he was wan and his eyes were shadowed, but they gleamed with an odd, febrile glitter. He had raked Evan with his glance and smiled knowingly. Reaching out, his finger traced the faint bruises on his neck and he laughed softly.

"You don't look like you got much sleep last night."

Knowing that it was pointless to deny it to Randy, he merely smiled and said, "I didn't."

"Are you happy?"

"Yes."

He smiled, his icy eyes becoming a soft, luminous blue. "Good," he said retreating to his bedroom.

Stripping down to his boxers, he cast himself onto his bed and closed his eyes, letting images from the night before wash over him, every tortured cry and whimper of the other man balm to his troubled soul. As the bus ate up the miles of highway, bringing him closer to his home, his wife and child, the creature within returned to its slumber and he fell into a deep sleep.

XXX

_Six weeks later_

"I never thought I'd enjoy being 'fired' so much," John said, pulling Evan down to sit next to him on the couch. "Randy wasn't too thrilled about having to job the belt, though. He was hoping they'd let him hang on to it a bit longer."

"He complains a lot, but he's actually pretty glad to have the extra free time," Evan replied.

"For now, perhaps."

"Look who's talking!" he exclaimed. "I give it another two weeks before you start moaning that you're bored."

"You're probably right," he admitted, "but right now, I'm enjoying being able to spend some time with you. And I like your new furniture."

"I got tired of rejects from my parents' house. Sam helped me pick it out." He turned pink. "I –uh also redid the bedroom."

"I'm looking forward to seeing it," he grinned.

"I'm looking forward to showing it to you," he said ducking his head. "Randy wanted to help."

"I hope you didn't let him. I have this vision of a mirror on the ceiling and a round bed with black satin sheets.

"No, I didn't, but he insisted on giving me a few goodies," he said turning an even brighter pink.

"I can just imagine. Randy always did have exotic tastes."

They settled down to watch television for an hour before joining Randy and Sam for dinner and a night out at St Louis' famous blues clubs. Evan looked around his newly-furnished living room. He didn't know what the future held for him and John, but he knew that he could no longer live the rootless existence he had for the past nine years, the only constants his family and his friendship with Randy. And he knew that this was entirely due to John, whose love and unwavering support gave him the courage to face and vanquish his demons.

He thought about his redecorated bedroom and thought about later when he and John would be in his new bed. His responses were still occasionally muted, but it didn't matter so much anymore because he knew that every day he grew stronger and the past ceased to have its hold over him. He thought about Gabriel; he had been shocked and, briefly, embittered to see him and Slater win the tag-team belts, but those feelings had receded when he realised the bargain he had struck to win that belt. He had seen the emptiness in his eyes and had been filled with compassion, and, in pitying him, had begun to forgive him.

Finally, it was time for them to leave. As John retrieved his coat, Evan put his bag in the bedroom, turning on the lamps to cast a golden pool of light over the bed. And when they returned later that night, the lamps remained lit as Evan lay in his arms, unashamed and unafraid, fully emerged from the shadows.


End file.
